472 days.
It's been 472 days since graduation, 472 days since they last saw each other.
He's healing. It's a slow process, but at least it's happening.
It's easier now that he doesn't see have to see her every day. Now that he doesn't have to sit across from her at lunch and pretend he doesn't still love her, pretend he doesn't wish every single moment of every single day that she was still his.
472 days, and he's already begun to forget the shocking blue-ness of those ice blue eyes, the perfect shape of those soft, pink lips, the way her body felt pressed up against his, like they were two pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly together.
Okay. Maybe he hasn't forgotten her entirely.
The date is February 11th.
2/11. She traces the number into her thigh with the tip of her finger. It's been exactly two years since they broke up.
She's a sophomore at NYCDA. All the way across the country from her friends, her asshole parents, and from him. She has a few people in her classes who she talks to, and a few guys who occasionally hit on her, but on the whole, she's pretty much a loner.
Two years since they broke up, and she's finally beginning to understand why he let her go.
You can only push someone away so many times before they stop bothering to come back.